Page 17 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)

Hands and fists, more than I could count, rained down on me—punching my face, arms, and torso; pulling at my hair; and scratching

my skin.

I lashed out, my bare foot connecting with a knee. A deep voice cursed, but the blows kept coming. My fists swiped at the

air, connecting with soft stomachs and sharp bones alike, and grunts and cries filled the air around me as I fought back.

I was a more than decent fighter. I had to be to succeed as a bounty hunter. But my skills were laughably inadequate against

an onslaught from multiple assailants in utter darkness.

I might die here.

The thought came after several minutes when my limbs were tiring, but my attackers showed no signs of stopping.

And what a ridiculous death it would be, having risked everything to save Jed, only to be murdered in a bathroom by a handful

of vengeful prisoners.

It was what I deserved.

Blood trickled across my face, and my ribs ached with every breath I took. I rolled, curling into myself and giving up on

fighting back in favor of protecting my head and vital organs.

But as abruptly as the assault had started, it ceased. Footsteps retreated until I was sure only one person remained in the

bathroom aside from me. The stench of sour breath enveloped me as they leaned close.

“This is Perri,” the high, lilting voice said. “Go ahead and tell the war den what happened to you here. He won’t do shit to me. No one can protect you, bounty hunter.”

I lay on the floor for what felt like hours, every breath coaxing a sharp ache from my bones. I’d survived one battle, but

if I couldn’t fight back against a group of inmates with a vendetta against me, how would I ever get away from a hunter armed

with a rifle?

Eventually, I drew in a shaky breath, ignoring the stabbing pain in my abdomen, and managed to haul myself onto wobbling hands

and knees.

Groping my way to the sink, I found that my discarded clothes had fallen to the watery floor. They were drenched, but I pulled

them over my raw skin, the chill seeping into my fresh cuts and scratches. With my luck, I’d wake up with a raging infection.

Hands trembling, I felt for the faucet, wrestling with the stubborn handle until cool water trickled out. I splashed water

over my face to remove the blood, while taking a mental inventory of my injuries.

I felt like shit, but I was standing and able to move my arms and hands. No broken bones but definitely a few bruised ribs—not

to mention the cuts and what would surely be dozens of bruises on my skin come morning.

I tried to take a deep breath but the pain in my ribs flared up, and my head spun. I grabbed the sink, lowering myself to

the floor and leaning my back against the wall.

“What’s going on here?” said a voice in the hall, slightly muffled. “I just took roll in Block H, and we have an inmate missing.”

My head lolled to the side, and my eyes blinked shut. They were too heavy to hold open.

“I—we didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” another voice answered.

“It’s nearly time for lights out,” the first voice seethed. “Wait here. I’m not done with you.”

The room flooded with light, bright and blinding, and I squeezed my eyes shut to block it out.

“Fuck.”

Rushing steps and then a hand brushed my cheek.

I flinched, wondering if this would be the person to kill me.

I forced my eyes open.

“You’re alive,” Vale whispered, blowing out a long breath.

“Very astute,” I croaked out. “No wonder they hired you.”

I could have sworn his lips quirked up then, but I blinked, and any amusement was gone. His eyes hardened.

“What happened?”

“Some light sparring. Seven-on-one from my best guess. Don’t worry. I got in a few hits of my own.”

“Of course you did.” His mouth flattened into a tight line. “Do you know who it was?”

I paused, considering. “No.”

Vale’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could argue.

“What’s it matter? I’m a bounty hunter. I knew this would happen.”

He raised a brow. “You said it was seven-on-one. That’s not a fair fight.”

I barked out a laugh and then hissed, my hand flying to my ribs and pressing down over the stabbing pain there.

Vale’s jaw clenched as he watched my face. He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a clean napkin, pressing it against

the line of blood that seeped from my temple.

“You work at Endlock,” I reminded him. “And you’re worried about a fair fight ? What do you call a hunter with a rifle up against an inmate with no weapon?”

He chewed his lip as he seemed to weigh something in his mind. But when he spoke, he looked away, not meeting my eyes. “Inmates

come to Endlock knowing what happens out on the hunting grounds. That’s the risk of breaking the law. Of being a rebel .”

The words came out flat.

I rolled my eyes. “You still think I’m a rebel? I’m far too selfish for that, guard . Call me a criminal, and I won’t argue. But I’d never do anything to put my brother at risk.”

I froze as soon as the words left my mouth.

Shit. I hadn’t meant to mention Jed—to alert Vale to my weakness.

But he just stared at me for a long moment, assessing.

A throat cleared by the bathroom entrance and Vale jumped to his feet, yanking his hand from my face like I’d burned him.

Kit and Yara stood in the doorway.

“What is it?” Vale asked.

“The warden asked us to get you,” Yara told him, meeting his eyes. “There’s been a fight in Cellblock D. It’s bad.”

Vale paused, glancing back at me for one moment, two. “Right. You two help 224 to the infirmary.”

And then he was gone.

“What happened to you?” Kit asked, her quiet voice at odds with the alarm lighting her eyes. She rushed to my side, holding

her arm out to pull me to my feet. I was in too much pain to refuse the help.

“Just a little initiation,” I got out through clenched teeth.

“They must really like you,” Yara said, her disdain for me still plain in her voice, though it was hard to miss the pity in

her eyes. “I didn’t get any special treatment when I got here.”

Yara walked over to the corner of the room and pointed to the camera there. “You should have known something was up.” She

glanced at me over her shoulder. “The guards changed this camera’s position. They only do that if an inmate’s managed to bribe

them.”

I had found it strange that the camera was pointing at the ground, but I was still getting my bearings at the prison, my mind going

in too many different directions to focus on the details for long.

I was going to get myself killed if I didn’t get it together.

“What could an inmate possibly have to offer in trade that a guard doesn’t already have?” I asked. Because if I could take

anything of value from this exchange, it was to learn what passed for currency between inmates and guards.

Yara laughed. “Are you really that naive, bounty hunter?”

“If they’re lucky, they trade in information,” Kit told me.

“We hear a lot as prisoners. Sometimes, the guards are bored enough that they focus on us, but most of the time, they forget we’re even there—forget to filter themselves around us.

We learn a lot about them. Some of it can be used to blackmail them, other bits we trade to other guards. ”

“But the unlucky ones,” Yara added when Kit trailed off, “trade their bodies for favors. After you’re here for a while, if

you manage to stay alive, you’ll come to understand that more.”

I shivered at the memory of Mort telling me we could work out an arrangement if I ever needed anything.

“I can’t believe Perri hates me enough that it was worth it to her to trade in on a favor just to hurt me.” Certainly, she

could’ve gotten something more valuable.

Kit sighed. “Don’t underestimate the power of revenge as a motivator. It makes people dangerous. Irrational.”

I shook my head in disbelief, and a wave of dizziness overtook me. I stepped forward to keep myself from falling, and Kit

grabbed my arm to keep me upright.

Kit glared at Yara until she stalked over and grabbed my free elbow. She grimaced as the soaked fabric of my jumpsuit pressed

against the cream-colored sweater she wore over her uniform. She was one of the fortunate inmates, then—someone with a wealthy

family on the outside to keep her comfortable during her time at Endlock.

“Don’t mind her.” Kit gave me a small smile. “She’s wearing a new sweater, and she just finished painting her nails.”

I glanced over at Yara and couldn’t help but admire her perfectly filed, lavender-polished nails.

“Well, excuse me for maintaining a modicum of individuality,” Yara huffed. “I might have to follow their rules, but at least

I haven’t let them rip away my personality or fashion sense.”

I respected that. At first glance, maybe I’d misjudged Yara based on her appearance. But she remained unbroken by Warden Larch

or the Council, unlike many other inmates who stooped beneath the weight of their fear. Every garment she chose, each accessory

she wore, was a quiet act of defiance.

Kit leaned forward to meet Yara’s eyes. “It was a compliment, darling. I would never mock you.”

“You don’t have to help me,” I added, addressing Yara. “I know you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t want to be locked up in this prison, either, but here I am.”

“Yara acts tough, but once you get past her prickly shell, she’s the sweetest person you’ll ever meet,” Kit told me in a loud

whisper that sent Yara’s eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked, averting my eyes to hide my suspicion.

“Because Kit’s making me.” Yara shrugged.

“Because we have a mutual friend ,” Kit chimed in, giving me a small smile before exchanging a lingering look with Yara. “And I like to get to know a person

before I form an opinion about them. Now come on.”

I had to fight to keep the shock off my face. August must have told her what I’d said.

They clamped their arms around mine, gripping me carefully, though my injuries still screamed beneath their gentle touches.

I tried not to let the pain show on my face.

As we exited the bathroom, we passed through the pair of guards flanking the entrance.

The pair of guards that must have stood there, listening, as I was attacked.

Yara saluted them. “Keep up the good work, boys.”

One of the guards reached for his baton, raising it to slam into Yara, but she lifted a hand, palm out, stopping him. “Next

delivery is tomorrow, Bax. If I remain uninjured, that is.”

Bax grumbled but lowered his baton. “Don’t push it. There better be extra for me this time.”

“You can count on it,” Yara answered as we turned down the hall.

Evidently, she had something of value to trade for immunity from a beating.

“I thought you weren’t getting another package until next week?” Kit whispered, brow arched.

“I’m not.” Yara smirked. “But I saw the look on Vale’s face. Those guards won’t have a job here come tomorrow.”

I chewed my lip. Vale was a guard and a young one at that—why would he have power over the other guards? But my thoughts were

interrupted when I noticed we weren’t walking in the direction of my cellblock. “Where are we going?”

“Infirmary,” Kit said. “Like Vale ordered. You’re bleeding all over the place.”

“No.” I stopped walking. “No. Then the others will think I’m weak, and more of them will come after me.”

“It was Perri, wasn’t it?” another voice asked. Turning, I found August had sidled up to us, Momo tailing him.

I blinked at his words. “Yeah. It was.”

“She does have a pretty good reason to hate you,” Yara said, her gaze accusatory.

“And I have a pretty good reason to hate her,” I snapped. “She lied to and stole from Lower Sector citizens. Sold them fake

treatments. People died because of her. They still do. None of it stopped when she was arrested.”

I stopped, breathing hard. Even though Perri was terrible and deserved to be jailed... no one deserved to be hunted for

sport. And I’d sent her to that fate when I’d turned her in. I couldn’t blame her for hating me as much as I hated her.

Yara’s mouth dropped open. “ That’s why the guards do her so many favors. I thought it was just because she was Larch’s favorite, but I bet she’s still managing

to run things from in here—she probably has the guards on her payroll.”

My stomach churned. If she was right, that made Perri nearly invincible.

“We should tell Larch,” Kit interjected, before Yara could answer. “Inmates aren’t supposed to hurt each other. Even if he doesn’t care about us, he’ll care about losing out on credits if they kill you before you’re selected for a hunt.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I insisted. “I’m already a bounty hunter. I’m not interested in anyone thinking I’m a rat, too.”

Kit looked like she wanted to argue, but she said nothing.

“Larch won’t do anything, anyway.” August sighed. “Perri is his pet. She does whatever she wants. You’ve seen how rarely she’s

selected for a hunt. Her favors for him let her get away with being a bully. Though this was aggressive, even for her.”

“So we won’t tell Larch,” Kit conceded. “But we can still bring you to the infirmary. Dr. Row doesn’t ask any questions.”

“It looks worse than it is,” I lied. “Besides, we all know I had it coming. If Perri hadn’t done it, someone else would have

eventually.”

They couldn’t argue with that. They’d all seen the way almost every inmate in the place hated me.

“But your injuries—” August started.

“No.” I took a few steps back toward the bathroom. “I’ll clean myself up. Things will only get worse if the others think that

Perri hurt me badly enough to warrant a visit to the infirmary.”

“I’ll help,” Kit said, setting off for the bathroom ahead of me. I opened my mouth to tell her I didn’t need help, but she

added, without turning around, “Don’t argue with me. I’ve made up my mind.”

Yara muttered something under her breath, grabbing Momo’s hand and walking in the opposite direction. “Come on, Gus. We don’t

need everyone to know we’re associating with the bounty hunter.”

August winced but didn’t say another word as he followed her.